There were scores of people in the room, most already seated, a few standing and mingling in little groups, the women in scarves and veils, the men in loose pants with broad sashes, except for those in monk’s robes in various hues, doubtless denoting their religious and martial affiliations. Rodrick was fairly adept at reading the composition of a crowd of nobles in most of the kingdoms back home, but his ignorance of Vudrani ways limited his capacity here. Who were the true powers here, and who were the strivers? Was it even worth his while to know? He picked up a tall fluted glass of something bubbly from the tray of a passing servant—another eunuch, he suspected—and took a sip. “Ah, good, you’ve arrived.” Nagesh appeared at his elbow and gently herded him toward one of the tables. “You will be seated not far from the thakur’s table, beside one of the teachers from the Monastery of Untwisting Iron—your mutual interest in weapons should make conversation pleasant.”
